So Much For College Flings
by Sean Montgomery
Summary: The worst day of Darien Shields' life was when he let Serena Carray go... and when she married Allen Carpenter. OMG IT'S UPDATED! CH. 2 UP!
1. Prologue: Saying Goodbye

Disclaimers: I do not own Sailor Moon - we all know Naoko does anyway, so to say that I do would be pretty pointless...

Notes: Good grief! How happy was I that 'Conversation' was received so well! You guys have no idea what a huge encouragement that was! Thanks so much for everyone who reviewed - I hope you get a kick out of this one as well.

This one came to me while on my quest to do a decent romance fic. I've been on this mission type thing to do a 'decent' romantic story after watching another horrible romance flic (_cough_-PrinceandMe-_cough_) that made me mad after seeing it. For all of it's predictability, I fumed at my mom and she simply said, "If you're tired of looking for it, why not write it?"

So, after a trip to Chicago and a bit of plotting (and questioning from co-workers), I came up with this. Hope you enjoy (and, hopefully, more attempts will follow after this one is over with).

* * *

So Much For College Flings  
By Sean Montgomery

* * *

_December, 1995_

He hated his alarm clock.

Well, maybe _hate_ was too strong a word. It wasn't that bad of an alarm clock, actually. It looked nice and hardly ever needed a battery change, not to mention that it never failed to have a good song playing to greet him. Usually his alarm was a welcome sight, meaning the beginning of a new day and new possibilities, new people to meet and new things to do. Optimism usually followed him wherever he went, especially where a new day was concerned. But not today.

He didn't hate his alarm clock. He hated the day his alarm clock brought.

The funny thing was, it wasn't the alarm clock that made him hate the day already, even though a nice song was flowing through the speakers into his room. It was the invitation that sat next to it, destroying any optimism he could have had. His blue eyes, usually wide awake, stared at it with regret, the words jumping out at him like a stain in his immaculate apartment.

Maybe it wasn't the words on it, but the words that _weren't_.

This was a very bad day and it hadn't even _begun_ yet.

Most of it went by in a blur, not that he would have noticed anyway. He was lucky he hadn't cut himself shaving, or that he hadn't done something drastic like staining his tux or getting in a car accident. When he handed the invitation over to be inspected, it felt like a fifty ton weight in his hand. He felt like his heart was being torn out every time he looked at the dumb thing.

He did hate the words that were, and weren't, there.

_You are invited to join in the ceremony of the union of Serena Carray and Allen Carpenter..._

He was surprised he even read the rest of the invitation. The first sentence was horrible enough.

_We hope you are able to join in on this joyous occasion..._

'Joyous' was the last word he would have used. 'Devistating' felt more at home to him. 'Catastrophic' would have worked, too.

As he stared at the invitation for the final time, he wondered how on earth he had been stupid enough to let her go. When had he believed his life would have worked perfectly without her in the picture? Every time he seriously thought about it he couldn't come up with a solution. Maybe there wasn't one after all.

Maybe he really was that stupid.

He never noticed the flower girls or the bridesmaids walking down the isle. It wasn't until the crowd stood in the small church that he realized he needed to stand and turn around to face her. As soon as he saw her he knew how to describe his day - it was his greatest dream and his worst nightmare all wrapped into one. She had her hair - golden, silky and never without its trademark buns on either side of her head - settled atop her head, ringlets dropping and curling around her jaw, making the added make-up around her eyes more magical. Her dress was a pattern and style he couldn't identify but it didn't matter to him. The veil could do nothing to cover the look of complete and utter trust and love. She was perfect.

What made it worse was that she never looked at him. It wasn't his day. Just hers and Allens.

He never knew when the groom stepped into the room. All he saw was the way he stared at her when she met him, his eyes filled with adoration, his hands holding onto hers gently. At one point in the ceremony, the joy finally being too much for her, he pulled out a hidden handkerchief and dabbed the tears from her eyes, making the crowd murmor with 'aw's and himself more miserable. Why didn't they take the dagger and stab him already?

The dagger went in when they were announced husband and wife. It twisted when they kissed. His heart was a bloody mass on the floor when they turned to the crowd with smiles on their faces. When the crowd applauded and showed their approval, he could hardly move. He was sure his face must have been pale.

It was over. It really was over. Unless…

He was surprised he made it to the reception in one piece. The semi that turned in front of him on the road was a tempting target to run into. Standing alone, waiting for the bride and groom to enter the room, he wondered inanely if it would have hurt. The answer, of course, would have been 'yes' but under the present circumstances, with his emotions as shot as they were, would it matter?

He must have been late getting to the reception. The couple arrived only moments later, followed by the energetic string of bridesmaids and laughing groomsmen. The room broke into applause once again. The smiles on their faces couldn't be contained.

Forget it being a really bad day. It sucked.

It was only when the dancing started, when the groom was asked by another, his sister presumably, that he made his way through the crowd to the bride. He placed a careful hand on her shoulder, suddenly wary of how she would react to seeing him. She turned at the contact, her smile, brought on by a joke Allen made, faded quickly when she saw him and her face got pale.

"Can we dance? I'd like to talk to you for a second." His voice sounded rough, low with lack of use. It had to be the first time he talked that day.

She was silent when he took her into his arms, careful not to invade her space or make her uncomfortable. It would only be harder to talk to her then.

"I didn't think you'd come." She said, her eyes lifeless and somewhat challenging.

"I got an invitation."

"I didn't think it would matter. I told Allen as much."

The words stung, but he refused to let her know that. "Are you happy?"

She raised an eyebrow. Had he forgotten he was at a wedding reception? "Am I happy?"

"With Allen. Does he really make you happy? Not the happy for a few months, or the happy because he got you some things – does he really make you happy, as in the kind that lasts forever?"

The words were out before she could stop them. "The happy that you never gave me?"

Her words stung again. She looked into his eyes and saw that she hit home. "Yeah, the happy I never gave you."

Her hands grew cold in his, but her face was determined as ever. Her single worded answer gave him all the confirmation he needed. When he looked into her eyes, he saw she meant it. "Yes."

He never knew when they had stopped dancing, or if they had even started at all. He felt the cool wedding band pressing against his palm and realized with agony that he wasn't wearing it's mate. It was really time to let her go. He pulled away but kept her hand in his, kissing it once and letting it go just as quickly. "Goodbye Serena."

He didn't dare turn around to see if she was watching him as he left. He only made his way out the doors and into the cold December air, watching his breath disappear when he deeply sighed. "Goodbye," he said again, looking at the car in front of him filled with flower petals and shaving cream, thinking of her getting in with that smile on her face as she waved at the crowd. There would be no smile when she saw him, though. She only would only frown, her expression-filled eyes as cold as the air around him. With a final deep breath, Darien Shields walked away from the building and out of Serena Carpenter's life forever.

* * *

_Now, don't kill me yet. Just tell me what you think. More will come later. Happy Belated Halloween!_  



	2. The Insurance Life

Disclaimers: First verse, same as the... er, prologue?

Notes: I'm very sorry this took me so long. 2006 got off to a very bad start - small family issues rose up in January, and my grandma (who lived next door) suffered a catastrophic stroke and passed away hours after the Super Bowl in February. March was all about recovering. I hope you guys can understand and extend me mercy - I know I ask for that a lot, but it would mean more this time around.

Dedication (because I forgot to do this on the other chapter...): To my Mom, who told me to 'quit whining and start a trend' by writing this story. I don't know if she knows how much that meant to me, but I hope she will someday.

_

* * *

Chicago, April 2003_

"Emerson signed the deal, right?"

"That's right."

"So that means we don't have to worry about it anymore, right?"

"Until something bad happens, yes."

Serena set the tea cup on the table with a loud 'clack', leaning back in her chair and folding her arms behind her head. "Great. Thank God that's over."

"You know how paranoid the guy is. It's only natural that it took him this long to do anything about his house."

"Yeah, but the guy waited until part of it burned before he did anything about it. You'd think that with someone as smart as he is, he would have known that insurance would have covered it."

Amy sighed, closing the folder and putting it in her bag. "Well, at least a two-year effort is finally settled."

The two girls turned their heads to a sudden gust of wind that blew down the street. The Windy City had been particularly gusty that day, but both had come to expect it. Serena pulled her jacket closer to her while Amy sat unfazed. "Do you think Lita's ready for us now?"

Amy looked at her watch. "We told her we'd meet her after lunch. She should be if she isn't already."

"Hopefully she isn't too upset that we didn't choose the restaurant to eat at."

"This place was closer to the company anyway. Besides, pasta is therapy food."

Serena shook her head with a chuckle. "You and your no-carb diet. How many times do I have to tell you that you're the size of a twig? You don't need a diet."

"I sit at a desk all day, Serena. Carbohydrates are only good if you're active." Amy stood, adjusting her jacket and picking up her bag. "You can say anything you like. Do you know how many times I've heard people talking about how they'd kill you have your body?"

"And my job. Don't forget that one."

"I think they want the man that came with the job, not the job itself."

"The man was making the company when we got married. Who knew that eight years later we'd be making a statement in the city of Chicago, huh?"

"Well, for whatever reason, you know that Lita appreciates it. You know how nervous she gets when she meets people she doesn't know."

"I'm surprised she wanted to open a restaurant."

Serena stood from the table, adjusting her own jacket and pushing the chair back into its place. When she didn't hear anything from Amy, she put on her sunglasses and turned to her. Amy only blinked back. "She didn't tell you?"

"Didn't tell me what?"

Amy sighed again. "Oh boy. Serena, I think you should see what Lita's done to the place."

It took a moment for realization to dawn on Serena. The moment it did, her eyes grew wide. "She didn't!"

"She did."

* * *

Lita Patterson was widely known for two opposite things. Her culinary skills not withstanding, it was city-wide knowledge that the girl was hopelessly addicted and otherwise incapable of keeping a relationship that lasted for longer than two weeks. When she finally decided that cooking was going to be her number one priority, she immediately went to Serena about the possibility of insurance and finding a place that would benefit her business. It took two years, but Serena finally found a former _Subway_ building that was looking for an owner. Lita jumped on the opportunity and found a place that not only could house her dreams but was only two blocks away from her own apartment building. 

When Lita suggested the name _Italian House_, Serena knew that it was going to be a hit. The building, while looking like a diner, was larger from the inside and was the perfect place for a small business. The insurance was settled and Lita opened her doors to the public two months later.

While Serena knew Lita better than she knew herself there was one factor that also set her apart from the rest of their group of friends: Lita was a die-hard Cubs fan.

_As if she isn't bad enough with old boyfriends,_ Serena thought miserably, watching the city fly by in the cab window. _If she's done what I think she has we could both be in a jam._

The situation was bad enough when the cab driver had no idea what place they were speaking of. When Amy spoke the magic words, the driver smiled and spoke a few unintelligible words and drove off, leaving Serena confused and Amy nervous. When he pulled over and let them out, allowing Serena to see what Lita had done to the building the jam was set in concrete.

"_Grecian Goddess' Italian House_?"

Not only had the small sign they had chosen for the _House_ been taken away but it was replaced with something that looked straight out of Vegas. 'Grecian Goddess' was loud enough, but the 'Italian House' was downright blaring for the small location.

"_Grecian Goddess' Italian House_!" Serena repeated. "What happened to _Italian House_?"

Amy put a hand at the back of her neck. "Remember Kenny?"

Serena turned to her. "The boyfriend who liked endearments?" When Amy said nothing and allowed Serena to remember Lita's boyfriend of a month, she turned back to the restaurant. "Oh, God…"

"That's what I said. Do we go in and talk to her now, or do you want to cool off for a bit?"

"How long have you known about this?"

"About a day. I didn't say anything because you looked so stressed from the Emerson deal that I thought this would be small potatoes."

Serena sighed. "Well, let's go in and talk to her."

"Uh, it gets worse."

"What do you mean 'it gets worse'? Wasn't this what you were talking about?"

"Not exactly. Think of Lita. Think of Lita's second love and it's not food."

Serena's eyes got wide and she stormed to the door. Amy only followed fully intent on putting out the fire that was slowly raging in Serena's head.

The restaurant itself didn't have any major attention drawing purposes (beyond the downright blaring sign announcing its name) and any spectator would be in for a surprise if they happened inside and saw what the _House_ was really about. Lita Patterson was also known for her alternating personalities and those who knew her well enough knew that the inside of her new business wouldn't be a surprise of any kind. Serena would realize this only later when the situation wasn't quite so dramatic.

"Lita!" she screamed. "What have you done?"

At least that was what Serena wanted to say. When she saw that a bar had been placed in the center of the building she only froze with her mouth hanging open. Amy followed close behind and placed her hand on her shell-shocked friend's shoulder. "Don't panic." She whispered.

Lita, standing behind the bar and cleaning a glass, turned when then door opened and waived the towel at her friends. "Hey guys! Come on in!"

"In?" Serena squeaked, finally moving and pointing a finger at the brunette. "Into what? Lita what on Earth have you done?"

"Isn't it great? I know the change is a little dramatic, but I think it'll add a comforting effect to the place."

Serena marched to the bar and placed her hands on the shiny surface, the mahogany surface a nice compliment to the color of her face. "What is _this_ doing here?"

Lita stopped and turned to Amy, seemingly unfazed by the blonde's anger. "Didn't you tell her?"

"A few things, yeah."

"I thought you said you were going to tell her everything!"

"You told me last night, Lita. We've only been together for the last hour or so."

"Fine." Lita adjusted the Cubs hat on her head, setting aside the white towel and leaning over on the counter. "I knew that adding a bar of some kind would tarnish the idea of an Italian restaurant, but I really wanted something out of the ordinary. Every place in Chicago had a bar of some kind, so I thought that a juice bar would be perfect."

The slight huffing and puffing from Serena stopped for a moment. "A Juice bar?"

"Yeah! Check it out!" Lita grabbed a freshly cleaned glass and placed it on top of a napkin. She unhooked a nozzle and poured orange juice into the glass, capping it off with a straw. "On the house." She said with a smile, fully expecting the effect to be met with praise.

It wasn't. Serena stared at the glass like it was the abomination of the earth while Amy stared at Serena and wondered when she would snap. The pause lasted for a while until Serena found her voice again. "You do realize this means we have to re-write your insurance plan."

"Why? I only added a juice bar."

"Exactly. Now we really need to consider an electrical fire o-or some drastic disaster happening. If we don't cover this and something happens here you won't get the bar back. This is an ASAP kind of thing, Lita."

Lita blinked back. "Just because I added a juice bar?"

Serena groaned and let her head fall on the table. Amy put an arm around her and looked at Lita who was staring at Serena blankly. "We just finished the Emmerson deal."

Lita blinked again but understanding was fully evident. "Oh, geez. I'm sorry Serena! I should have told you sooner!"

"Or later." Serena groaned again.

"Had I known that you'd taken care of Emmerson I would have let you relax for a while longer. Do you want something to eat? That'll be on the house too."

Amy patted Serena's back. "We just ate. I don't think she's-"

"I like ravioli."

Lita grinned broadly. "Spoken like the Serena Carpenter I know." She turned to the kitchen window and cupped her hands over her mouth. "Hey Mina!"

A mop of blonde hair covered by a black cap that read "Kiss the Cook" appeared over the window. Mina's broad grin showed she hadn't been listening to the exchange at all. "Hi all!"

"Mina, could you get Serena some ravioli please?"

Mina gave a salute and disappeared behind the window. Pots and pans clattered while the cook whistled to a tune to the radio in the kitchen. Lita turned back to Serena only to be met with her blue eyes.

"Just please tell me this is the only thing you've changed."

Lita ran a hand over her neck and grinned awkwardly. "Well, not quite."

She pointed a finger to the corner of the restaurant. Amy and Serena turned and felt their eyes opening wider when they saw a TV set on a stand in the corner. They were even wider when they saw the ivy walls of Wrigley Field along with the jerseys associated with it.

Serena turned to Lita and blinked, expression never changing. "Is this a restaurant or a sports bar?"

"Now, before you get all tight and upset on me consider this: I've gotten seven phone calls in the last few days from wives who were thrilled knowing that their husbands and pals were going to an Italian restaurant to see a ball game instead of a bar. They go home full of good food, juice, and happy faces. They even said they'd tag along one of these days! Now you try and tell me that isn't a good report!"

"You said 'seven', Lita. Seven people called you. I've got more _fingers_ than that!"

"Hey, this helps me get over my fear of being around too many people, right? Let's just try this."

"I'm not saying don't try it. I just wish you'd said something earlier to me before you did it!"

"I would have Serena but you were at that conference in Iowa for a week and when you had gotten back I had already done it and didn't find time to tell you. That's why I told Amy. I hoped she would have told you so that you wouldn't have reacted this way!"

Serena took a drink from the glass before her. "Is there anything else?"

"Does putting stickers on the door count?"

"If it doesn't have to do with 'no shirt no shoes no service', yes."

"Then you should look at the door."

Serena took a deep breath and stood from the stool she found herself sitting on at some point during the conversation. She went to the door and opened it, ignoring the small protests that came from customers when a cold gust blew in. In front of the handle were white-printed words; 'No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service'. She turned to Lita and shrugged. "It's law."

"Look next to it."

Serena turned to the door and noticed another sticker printed in black; 'We reserve the right to discriminate against Cardinal and White Sox fans. Go Cubs!'

Her head fell against the door. Lita turned to Amy. "Do you think she's angry at me yet?"

"I think she was angry with you when she came through the door."

"No, I'm not angry with you." Serena went back to the bar and took Lita's hands. "I'm not mad. I swear. I just wish I had known about this earlier. How about you and Mina come over tonight and we can discuss the changes?"

"Do we have to do it while we're having our Ladies Night Out?"

"We've got to do it sometime soon."

"Okay, but we've got to do it first to get it out of the way."

Serena smiled. "Agreed."

Amy took the seat next to Serena and opened her palms. "Is this settled now?"

"I'd say so." Lita said, glancing at the TV before picking up another glass to clean. "I think it'll be a good season."

"Don't you say that every year?"

"Of course. I wouldn't be a Cubs fan if I didn't!"

Mina showed up moments later through the kitchen doors with a plate of steaming ravioli. "Order up!" She set the plate in front of Serena and smiled. "So what have you ladies been talking about?"

"Serena just found out about the bar and the TV." Lita said, gesturing to both when mentioned.

"Really? Aren't they great?"

Serena gave a small, crooked grin to Lita. "They _are_ great."

"I think they give the place a little life. We certainly get a good amount of customers now. I don't know how many plates of food I've made today."

"Get used to it, Mina. When business grows and the Cubs win, we'll be cookin' like crazy. We might even need another cook in the back."

"You're the only two here now?" Amy asked.

"For right now. We've gotten some applications in but we haven't looked at them yet. Guess that's another thing we'll have to do tonight."

"Not during the Ladies Night Out, right?" Mina asked.

"Oh, yes. You two are getting everything cleared out tonight before my head hits the pillow. I refuse to go to bed with things not settled." Serena pressed her finger against the bar, emphasizing her point.

"You'd better watch out, Sere. If you're not careful you'll end up sounding like Raye." Lita said with a smile.

"And we all know how bad that would be." Amy grinned.

"Speaking of Raye, when are they getting back?"

"They called last night. She said that they were going to leave this morning and be back later tonight, too late to really do anything." Serena said, taking another drink from her glass.

Lita took a fork and stabbed a piece of ravioli. "Don't you think it would be hard to bring your wife along on a business trip?"

"Of course not. We bring good moral support! Besides, we all know how much better Chad operates when Raye's around, so there's no point in making fun. He can be a pretty washed out musician at times."

"I've heard they tend to be. So, what's for dinner?"

"As long as I'm not cooking, I'm good for anything." Mina said.

Lita took a bite of the ravioli and made a face. "Tell me you didn't make this."

"Of course I did."

"Then tell me you haven't been serving this. Mina, this is awful!"

"What?" Mina grabbed a fork from under the bar and took a bite. Her face was similar to Lita's. "Oh, no."

Amy and Serena picked a piece with their fingers and found themselves slowly chewing. Amy swallowed first. "It tastes like-"

"Cheese. Lita, we got the wrong shipment of ravioli in."

Lita blinked broadly and jumped over the bar, running to the kitchen as fast as her converse shoes would let her. Mina followed close behind while Amy and Serena sat and stared at the swinging doors. It was totally quiet until Lita's loud exclamation of "_What!_" rang through the small building.

* * *

"What do you mean the shipments got mixed up? How do you mix up shipments to a place like _Grecian Goddess' Italian House_?" 

Serena, Amy and Mina all had smiles on their faces as they listened to their friends outburst. While Lita fixed the shipment problem (that apparently meant that her beef ravioli had been mixed with the cheese ravioli from another restaurant called _Pablo's Italian Cheese_) the other girls sat in Serena's living room watching a movie. Lita paced in the kitchen only feet away, holding the shipment papers in one hand and trying to keep her voice down but failing.

"I understand that you can't fix it now. Is there some way I can get another shipment in soon?" There was a pause. "I don't want to pay for it… because I've already paid for a shipment. It's not my fault that the shipment company screwed up… No, you don't understand: I'm not going to pay for another shipment. I want one to make up for the ravioli that got lost… Listen to me, you little punk…"

Mina snorted on the couch. "Ooh, now she's mad."

Amy tucked her legs under her, digging her hand into the popcorn bowl. "How do you think she'll handle it?"

"Hopefully with orderly and business like conduct." Serena answered. She turned to the others from her spot on the floor. "If not, she'll rant their heads off until they comply."

The three continued to watch the movie, keeping close ear to the words floating in from the kitchen. The smiles grew on their faces until they heard her exhausted "Thank you" which they then pretended to not be listening at all and focused on the movie. Lita set the phone and papers on the table and walked into the living room, refusing to make an effort to take off her converse before walking on the carpet. She fell on a couch by Serena. The other girls in the room turned to her. "How'd it go?" Mina asked.

"Why tell it? I'm sure you guys heard everything."

"Not really. This movie's really good." Serena said, putting some more pieces of popcorn in her mouth.

"Yeah. We didn't hear much."

"Well, it turns out that the shipment was mixed up and I demanded that the whole thing be fixed. The guy tells me that in order to do that I might as well pay for a whole new shipment. Of course I said no, saying that I didn't have to because the first shipment was still floating out there. He says, "Well, I'm sorry lady, but what you've got out there is one shipment and we can't replace it with another without cash". So, I told him that he was a two-timing schemer with no regard for people's cash-"

"We heard that."

"-And that he was more than likely ready to have his butt kicked by me if he didn't do something about this shipment-"

"We heard that, too."

"-and he paused, complied, and said everything would be shipped and ready before the week was over, free of charge." Lita rested her head on the back of the couch. "I'm sure you heard all of that, though."

"Sure did."

"Yup."

"No shame in it, either."

Lita chuckled, pleasantly exhausted and happy to be in her friend's company. "I really feel your support, guys."

At the other side of the house, the garage door opened. Allen Carpenter stepped through the door frame and set his bag down. "Hi Honey!" he called.

"Hey Allen!" Serena voice drifted in from the living room.

When he bent over he saw two other pairs of shoes that meant only one thing: Amy and Mina were there and Lita forgot to take off her shoes again. "Hi ladies!"

"Hi Allen!" Three voices chorused unanimously.

Serena came around the corner moments later, a happy smile on her face and her arms outstretched. His jacket was cold but warmed quickly under her touch.

"Is it Ladies Night Out again?" he asked, his voice muffled in her hair.

"I should have told you before I left. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry." He pulled back and grinned. "We men have a great way of avoiding these things. Will it kill you if I order a pizza and hibernate in our room with a ball game instead of stick around with you gals?"

"We never stopped you before. Lita might want a piece though."

"Deal." He let his fingers play with the strands of her hair. "I got that report you left about Lita's place. She changed the sign and added a few details, huh?"

"Did you drive by it?"

"How could I miss it? It's like a Vegas location over there. It's easily the brightest thing in town."

Serena giggled. "I'm sure you were very calm about the whole thing."

"And I'm sure you had a public display of dramatics. It's really not that bad. Only a few things need to be changed. No big deal."

"Speaking of deals," she pulled back and took his jacket, hanging it in the closet while she spoke. "Were you able to work out that deal in Detroit?"

"About expanding the company? It took up most of my afternoon. They insisted on having someone, namely me, head over there to prove our allegiance or something inane like that. I told them that I just got back from a two week trip out of town and refused. They were quiet for a while, asked me if I was married, for how long, and if that was one of the reasons I wouldn't go on another trip. They also asked me if you were pregnant – you aren't pregnant, right?"

"As far as I know."

"Good, because I said you weren't. Then they needed to know why I refused to leave…" he ran a hand through his brown hair, obviously still exhausted with the whole exchange. "To make a long story short, I put my foot down and demanded they comply." A smile grew on his face at her expression, knowing he had her in his story. "They agreed to finish the deal without sending someone over there."

"So that means…"

"The company is officially expanding. Carpenter Insurance Inc. is going to spread its wings to a small location in Michigan."

"Oh, Allen!" she threw her arms around him again, giving a laugh when he chuckled. "This is great! Your dream is coming true. I'm so happy for you!"

"For us," he corrected, putting his forehead on hers. "You are the Vice President of the company, after all. This means more business, more people, and more reasons to celebrate."

"We'll do that later," she said, pointing a finger at his face. "We've got company right now."

"Let them join us! I think we've still got a little bit of wine left in the cooler."

"Are you two coming out sometime soon, or do we need to build a door so you can have a room?"

The two laughed, finally parting and walking hand in hand to the living room. The three girls grinned at the doorway. "Good news, we hope?" Amy asked.

"The company is expanding. We've got a location of interest in Michigan."

A loud exclamation resounded through the room. Mixed voices shouted their consent and the three girls gathered together for hugs. "You do know this means we have to celebrate, right?" Lita said, leaning forward and grinning broadly at Serena.

"You all are welcome to stay for a while." Allen said, pulling back and heading for the fridge. "This is a big deal for the company. A few more deals like this and we can label ourselves a successful business throughout the Illinois state and surrounding locations." He pulled out a bottle of wine and stared at the label. "There should be enough left for all of us. Do you guys want some?"

"Sure!"

"Count me in!"

"No, thank you."

"Come on, Amy! You need to have something. You are an employee after all."

"I'll be fine with water. I'm not a very big wine lover."

Mina crossed her arms, smiling even as she shook her head. "Spoken like the girl we know. You would choose the Earth's natural beverage over something with a little alcohol."

Lita blinked back at Mina, holding a glass out for Allen to pour wine into. "Technically, the wine is Earth's natural beverage, too."

"Yeah, but it's not prominent!"

"Actually, it is."

Mina paused for a moment, processing the statement even as Allen moved to pour her a drink. "Are we sure she should have some?" he whispered to Serena, earning a small giggle and a playful slap on the arm. He let the smile stay on his face while Lita tried to explain the thought to Mina, who all the while looked extremely confused over the whole thing. Lita eventually gave up, giving into the thought that it was better left unexplained and simple than drawn out and more confusing.

"A toast?" Amy asked, lifting her glass of water above her circle of friends.

"To Carpenter Insurance." Serena answered, raising her own glass.

"And the _Italian House_." Allen added, smiling at Lita when he spoke the words before her. "May they both be successful and keep us together in the years to come."

"To success, then?" Mina offered.

"To us." Lita ended, and the group lifted their glasses together, deciding that the toast really was to their friendship and the connection the two businesses brought between them all. Serena, letting her gaze wander from one friend to another, stopped when she saw Allen staring straight at her with a small smile on his face. She gave her glass a small tilt in his direction, a personal toast to how proud she was of him, hoping he would get the message. It seemed he did – he raised his glass in return and took another drink.

* * *

In a small, cluttered apartment on the South Side of Chicago, a young man sighed in relief when his laptop finally turned on and started working. Deciding that cable and other 'necessities' would come later, he took the small computer into his chair and unplugged the charger, letting the cords fold messily by his side. His blue eyes scanned file after file until he came across what he was looking for – a personally typed resume for his application. He attached the file to and email and checked the address for the hundredth time – at least, he thought it was the hundredth time; he wasn't sure at one thirty in the morning anymore – then, hesitantly, clicked the button marked 'Send'. 

There. It was done. Another long sigh echoed throughout the room, cluttered with stacked boxes and trash from fast food restaurants. He looked around the small apartment, grateful for its housing but not for its size, and decided checking the order of the apartment would be a good idea before any others. At least he knew where his bedroom things were. He kept the computer on and opened a box, digging through its contents until he found a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. Now would be a better time than ever to check that shower.

He stared one more time at the computer screen, his eyes drifting to the yellow post-it note he had pasted on there earlier that morning. An email address was scribbled there, along with the name of the company's owner:

_Allen Carpenter, President of Carpenter Insurance Inc._

The name had to be coincidental, and he was sure she wouldn't be working there. At least, he hoped so. Rubbing his eyes and trying to stay awake, Darien turned to the bathroom and turned on the light, ready to prepare himself for the long hours that lay ahead.

* * *

You guys have no idea how much fun it was to write this. Hopefully, my odd sense of humor will take a backseat so that it can be funny. Was it? It's supposed to be a romantic-comedy/drama. Lemme know.  



	3. The Downtown Guy

"Are you sure these are yours? I remember these being mine at one point."

Darien turned over his shoulder. "Yes, those are mine. They were yours, but you let me have them when you said you didn't need them anymore."

The item in question was a simple pair of cufflinks, blue in color with some slight gold around the edges. The man holding them had once claimed they were a great family heirloom to a young woman in particular, until a few simple questions and several drinks made him spill that he had gotten them at a garage sale for a whopping dollar and seventy-five cents. The woman had left, and so had the cufflinks a few hours later.

"I'm glad I don't have these anymore. They look better on you anyway."

"I'm sure the young lady wasn't impressed with them either."

"It's her own fault for being so curious. Most women would have settled for the 'family heirloom' story. Why do I always get the girl with the brain?"

Darien turned to his childhood friend. "Because you want to fool them into thinking you've got one, too?"

"I wasn't looking for an answer."

"You got one."

Andrew Shepard let his green eyes settle for a moment longer on the cufflinks before setting them in the box. "When was your job interview?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"You should wear those."

"I'm not wearing your lying cufflinks."

"They aren't lying cufflinks. They just have a bad history associated with them. When did you wear them last?"

Darien didn't hesitate. "Eight years ago."

"Yeah, don't wear them. They're out of style."

"Are you helping me, or are you going through my stuff?"

Andrew paused and looked around the room of the small apartment. The area was cluttered with boxes and furniture, not to mention papers and other things they had torn off for the last two hours searching for Darien's random possessions. What was once an area meant for trash was suddenly an intimidating area of empty boxes and heaping mounds of white paper, a complete mess in a room that was almost too small for a mess itself.

"Are you sure your stuff's still _here_?"

"Take those pieces of paper and put them in boxes. Let's get some space in here."

"Easier said than done."

Darien knew that was true, but he was too tired to make any kind of comment. He really should have gone through more of his stuff before moving into the city, but he knew at the time he was more concerned about getting a job than his things. It didn't help that his interview was looming around the corner, not to mention the determined friend who insisted on going through everything in every box like his life depended on it. While Andrew was helpful and consistent, he treated everything like a precious possession, making Darien wonder why he really hadn't sorted through his things before moving.

"So, when you need to take out the trash are you going to dump it out the window into the dumpster back here?"

Darien turned to see Andrew stick his head out the window. "Don't even think about it."

"I didn't say I was. I was asking if you were."

"Of course not."

"Why not? It'd be quicker than going down the stairs."

"Because I have no intention of dropping a full bag of trash out the window and watching it catch the edge of the dumpster and scatter crap all over the pavement while I turn around and hope it all 'goes away.'"

Andrew pulled his head back inside, adjusting the White Sox cap on his head. "Then close the window. No one would know."

"Except for the people looking out their windows, too."

Andrew took another look out the window. Sure enough, in the complex right next door, people quickly scattered away from the window once they were spotted. He made a face. "Now I know how a lab rat feels."

"Does that mean I'm going to have to scatter food all over the place so you'll help me?"

Andrew grabbed another box and picked at the tape. "Someone's in a bad mood. I _have_ been helping you. _You're_ the one who didn't label the boxes." He stuck a hand inside the box and dug through its contents. "Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

Darien stood from his area at the corner of the apartment and looked around the room. Random possessions were all over the place, trash was resting above that, and there were still several more boxes to go through. Just looking at the place was giving him a headache, an unwanted weight to his already loaded shoulders. When Andrew pulled a set of books out of the box we was kneeling in front of, Darien waved him off. "Forget it. We should take a break and get this room cleaned up. You want some water or something?"

Andrew quickly repacked the box and sat on top of it, taking off his ball cap and rubbing his face. "Got any beer?"

Darien opened the refrigerator door. _Bread, milk, and lunchmeat certainly make a fridge look wider. _"I got water."

"You should have beer. What kind of bachelor are you?"

Darien filled two glasses of water and handed one to Andrew. "One who worries more about making sure he has a paycheck than he does filling his cabinets with unnecessary expenses."

His answer was short and just showed hints of irritation. Andrew had known Darien long enough to know when his friend was bothered by something bigger than himself; when he wasn't overwhelmed with something going on in his life, Darien was usually so much more… relaxed. The Darien he knew would have been laughing things off and would have half of this room finished before they both knew it. The Darien before him wasn't exactly a stranger either, but his appearance was certainly more rare. No, the current Darien was the one who arrived when he had something consuming his mind so badly that he could barely think or act straight, which lead to irritability, irrationality, and, in this case, messily packed boxes with no foreseeable future.

Andrew set his now empty glass on the floor. "Spill."

Darien, running a hand through his slightly sweaty hair, stopped and checked his glass. "I didn't spill anything."

"Not that. What's your problem? You've been on edge like this since you've moved here. It's not that interview tomorrow, is it?"

Darien threw back his head and drained half the glass. "That's exactly what it is."

"What're you worried about that for? You're sharp every time you have a job interview. Not like you have a bad resume, either. If it looked any better, it'd be a blank page."

"It's not the interview itself. It's where it's located."

"You make it sound like it's in the red light district or something."

"It's Carpenter Insurance, Drew."

Andrew stared back blankly for a moment. "Are you going to a place you didn't want to work at?"

"It's owned by Allen Carpenter."

"What, is he gay? Make a pass on you already?"

"Allen married Serena."

"Serena…" Andrew whispered the name, trying to remember where he'd heard it before. Then, as quick as the haze settled, it was gone. His green eyes widened. "Serena Carray? _Your_ Serena?"

Darien drank the remainder of his water. "Yep."

The younger man slouched against the wall, surprise clearly on his face. "Dude… no. You're going to work for the husband of your college sweetheart? You were strung on her!"

"I know."

"You wanted to friggin' marry her!"

"I _know_."

"Darien, maybe you should stop and think about this for a minute. Working for your former girlfriend's husband is, like, rule number one in the _Don't Mess Around With the Former Fling Who's A Newlywed_ manual!"

Agitated, Darien slammed his glass on the bare floor of his living room. "First of all, I said nothing about messing around with a newlywed. Second of all, she's not a newlywed; she's been married for eight years. Third of all, chances are really, really good that she doesn't even work there."

"So you're going to work there in order to completely wreck your mind? I didn't realize you were a masochist."

"I'm working there because of all of the places I applied for with my degree, Carpenter Insurance had the best to offer. I didn't have much of a choice anyway."

Andrew remained against the wall while Darien stood and took his glass back into the kitchen. He couldn't believe it. Darien was going to work for the one man he probably never wanted to see again? Suddenly, his attitude and demeanor made complete sense. He was probably going to haunt himself with images of things he could have had, brood with the fantasy that was no longer a possibility, and turn into a modern-day version of Scrooge every time someone came near him who remotely radiated happiness like Serena was so famous for. He'd probably be lucky if he ever got another date again. Nothing lasted longer than a few weeks after Serena, anyway…

"Oh my God…" Suddenly, the pieces clicked together in Andrew's mind. "You're still in love with her."

Darien's lack of a response said everything.

"God, I'm glad we finally got that out in the open!" He threw his arms up in the air and slapped them on his thighs. Standing, he made his way through the fields of trash and rested his arms on the bar. "Can I ask you a favor? Could you please get over her soon so that you can stop being as much of an ass as you have the last couple of years?"

"You'd be worse if you lost Rita."

Andrew momentarily grinned at the thought of his fiancée. "You're right, I would be worse. But I'd try to move on with my life and not be stuck in something that happened almost a decade ago. This, right here? This situation is why there are so many elderly American women who own thirty cats."

"Thank you, Oprah." Darien filled his glass and went to the fridge, popping several ice cubs into his water. "Are you going to recommend me a book, too?"

"See? This what I'm talking about; you can't have a conversation like this without getting completely irritable. Just think about what you're doing."

"I _have_ thought about it! You think I wasn't thinking about how stupid I am when I was filling out the application? Or when I agreed to meet for the interview? Maybe…" Darien trailed off. Setting his glass down on the counter, he opened his mouth. It took him several seconds to voice his thoughts. "Maybe I'm doing this for closure. Maybe… I want to get this job so I can make sure that he's good enough for her."

"Or that they're still married."

"Never crossed my mind. But I'll kill him if I find out he broke her heart."

"And if they're still in wedded bliss?"

Darien sighed again, closing his eyes. "Then I'll work in the company and move on with my life."

Silence hung in the room for several moments. Lifting his eyes, Darien made a face at Andrew's smirk. "What?"

"She's got you whipped, man."

Darien rolled his eyes and exited the kitchen. "For the love of…" he muttered.

"She does! You haven't seen her for eight years and she still gets to you! You are completely drowning in _The One That Got Away Syndrome_."

"Will you shut the therapist crap and get over here? I've got more boxes to unload!"

Creaking floors, scribbling pens, hushed voices, scratching hair, typing keys, phones ringing, people laughing, copier breaking, muted swearing, squeaking chairs, doors shutting, items dropping, leg twitching, fingers drumming, eyes glazing, fidgeting…

Nope. Darien Shields wasn't nervous at all.

Adjusting his suit jacket one more time, Darien took another look at the small office space and wondered how many cubicles were in the room. It seemed the only few that were open were the two that were sitting in front of the main offices, both occupied by young women who were making phone calls and scribbling agendas for the day.

Secretaries, he figured. He took another look at the one who told him to wait, wondered if the aqua shine in her hair wasn't a result of the lighting, and glanced back down at the floor. Her voice was smooth and comforting when she had spoken to him, a slender hand gesturing to the row of chairs sitting in front of the office with the drawn curtains, a gentle look in her eyes when she smiled at him. Immediately she reached for the ringing phone, silently dismissing him, and had been in conversation with the one on the other line since. He thought he had caught the name Michelle at some point, but that was hard to remember seeing how the person in the space next to her was nowhere near as… well, _professional_. Where Michelle's desk was almost flawless and had little trinkets, the other woman's had papers and pens scattered everywhere, every necessity lost in a sea of phone numbers and post-it notes. The woman seemed to know her way around her own mess, though, and Darien had to hide his surprise when she opened a filing cabinet that, in comparison to the space around her, was perfect. She was constantly adjusting her short dirty-blonde hair with every frantic move she made, yet something about the chaos surrounding her made sense. He was sure that he'd figure it out if he got the job.

Suddenly, a cell phone rang. Half way jumping before realizing it wasn't his, Darien watched the blonde put her caller on hold, and then reach for the cell phone sitting on her desk. She didn't look at the caller ID, but the ring tone was random enough that he could immediately assume that she knew who the caller was. He ran his fingers through the short facial hair at his chin and lip to hide the disapproving expression on his face.

"Hello?" the blonde whispered. Then, "Where _are_ you? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

Sticking up for someone who was late? What did he get himself into?

"Yeah, he's been here since eight. He had a meeting… no, he hasn't asked yet… I told you to get up early today, didn't I?" She paused. "No, I don't want to hear about it! You're the second-in-command. Do you know how bad that looks for your reputation if you're late all the time?" Another pause. "One day last week doesn't make up for anything. Just get over here soon as you can… No, I'm not going to make an excuse for you… Even if you buy me dinner… Even if you buy me dinner and a movie… Just get over here!" The conversation ended with a sharp snap of the cell phone.

"Caught in traffic again, I assume?" The comment filled with warm humor was from Michelle – or whom he could assume was Michelle – as she hung up her phone and started tying away on her laptop.

"When _isn't_ she caught in traffic? Whoever gave her a driver's license obviously had no idea what they were doing."

"I thought people said that about you."

The blonde swiveled her chair back to the filing cabinet, grabbed a file, and swiveled back to her own laptop. "They only say that 'cause they're jealous."

"Of course. Everyone is jealous of someone who's broken practically every violation there's a law for."

"Everyone wants to live dangerously. I'm just the one who does it."

The conversation ended there. Both women were once again typing away, and Darien was left alone with his nerves and thundering thoughts. Suddenly, the room felt like it was going to swallow him whole. Inwardly, he begged whoever was listening to not let him be the only responsible person in the office. It would be like school all over again. That wasn't a pleasant thought.

The door beside his chair opened. A slightly messy head of brown hair poked out from the space before the person emerged fully from the office. Immediately, he turned and looked at Darien. "Darien Shields?"

"Yes, sir." Darien and Michelle said at the same time, but he thought he'd heard her say "Allen." Were employees on a first-name basis with the boss? Did he allow that?

Allen Carpenter grinned warmly at him, opening the door wider and turning to Michelle. "I'll be busy with this interview for a little bit, Michelle. Hold the peace around here, will you?"

"What's wrong with me?" the blonde interjected, opening her palms and giving Allen a sly grin.

He didn't miss a beat. "Your desk. It tells me all I need to know."

"I cleaned up the filing cabinet, though!"

"The filing cabinet doesn't count. Michelle, you know what to do."

Darien saw the court nod and the amused grin she gave him before the door closed completely. The office was surprisingly smaller than he thought it would be, but the natural sunlight that poured in made it seem like it was one of the more pleasant. Allen double-checked the blinds on the windows. " We have several employees that like to snoop around here. Thank God I put Amara and Michelle in front of the main offices. It's been so much quieter around here with them. Please, have a seat."

A small side of Darien felt like it seethed with rage and regret at the same time. Allen was both the person he hoped he would be, but also the one he didn't want to see. Perhaps there was some unconscious fantasy he had where Allen would be a massive jerk and he could try to save Serena from her unfortunate state – he quickly checked Allen's hand as he walked to his desk, noting the wedding band on his finger – but the pit in his stomach only felt deeper when he saw the collection of framed pictures of Serena on Allen's desk.

Oh, God, she was still beautiful. Eight years had done nothing to change her youthful exuberance, the light in her eyes as prominent as ever, smiling that bright smile at the camera while wearing… her… wedding dress.

If Darien could have gotten away with growling at himself without it appearing strange, he would have. Of course the first picture he would notice would be her wedding day. On a bookshelf not far from Allen's desk, another framed picture looked more recent. She and Allen were standing at Navy Pier, the evening sky a beautiful background as he smiled at the camera while she kissed him on the cheek. She looked exactly the same. She looked happy.

Using the window as a getaway was suddenly very appealing (even if it would result in injury, but he could deal with that later.) Why was he doing this to himself?

"Well, Mr. Shields, I've spent part of the morning reading through your resume and I have to say that I'm extremely impressed." Allen began, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands on his desk. "Your record appears to be absolutely spotless. Dependable, committed, hard-working, willing to work weekends, holidays, and overtime… who was the fool who let you go?"

Darien straightened himself in the chair, doing his best to ignore the smiling woman in the photographs before him. He did have a job to win, after all… "My previous employer was more of a launching pad. It didn't really cater to the strengths of my degree, so I stayed there for as long as I could before coming to Chicago."

"Didn't cater to your strengths, huh?" Allen grinned as he flipped through a few papers in a manila folder. "If you look like this on that kind of a company, I'd be thrilled to see what you can do for us." He closed the folder. "Let me start off with the basics. The number one thing people need to know about Carpenter Insurance is that we are completely committed to giving our customers as much satisfaction as possible. If we don't get a deal through to a customer, but we've reached them in a way that they won't hesitate to recommend us to other people, that means about as much to me as their business. You don't spend your working career trying to build a good reputation only to throw it out the window when you have what you've been trying to achieve, right?"

Darien nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand."

Allen grinned. "Another point I want to make. It's not just my customers I care about; I want my employees to enjoy working here as well. The more you enjoy working at your job, the more effective you'll be with sales. Many of my employees are like family to me, Darien. Amara and Michelle out there? I've known them for years. If you can know your boss while still respecting his position as your boss, you have no complaints from me to be casual. Most of the people in this office call me Allen anyway. I expect you to work, but I want you to be comfortable here at the same time. Does that make sense?

"Yeah, it does."

"See? It's working already." Allen tossed the manila folder on his desk as if emphasizing a decision he'd already made. "I'm ready to hire you on the spot, Darien. According to your former boss, you're personable, friendly, and the real deal. It's exactly what I'm looking for. The only problem, however, is because we've got such small space, your desk won't be ready until tomorrow. Is that okay?"

Darien's eyes brightened despite the small knot in his stomach. "That's great. Thank you very much."

Allen looked slightly embarrassed. "It's no problem. I wish I could have had your space all set up and ready, but we don't own this entire floor. We might be moderately successful, but we're still growing. It's the main reason for the cubicles and small offices. I wish I could see more of what was going on, but hopefully people are doing their jobs so that we can get better space someday." Allen readjusted himself, leaning forward on his desk and folding his hands together. "Before I show you around and introduce you to a few people, do you have any questions?"

He knew he was stupidly noble the moment he thought it. Surely any normal man wouldn't think about telling his new boss that he used to be his wife's boyfriend. Didn't this happen in soaps? Since Serena probably still hated his guts though…

"There… might be a little bit of a concern." God, if his voice sounded meeker he could be mistaken for a little boy.

Allen nodded his head patiently. Darien was briefly reminded of a moment in the principal's office in middle school. "Well, I can't blame you if you don't recognize me."

Allen frowned. "Recognize you?"

_That's what I get for thinking out loud._ "Well, to be blunt, sir… I used to be your wife's boyfriend. In college."

Allen blinked for a moment. "Oh really?"

The tone of his voice heavily implied that he had no idea why this was a problem. Darien tried to straighten in his seat without looking challenging. "Well, we used to be close."

Something seemed to click with Allen. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his hands over his desk. "Do you believe this will affect your work performance?"

"I don't plan on letting it, sir. I just figured… you should know."

"Okay," Allen replied thoughtfully. "Okay." He continued to stare blankly at Darien. Finally he pursed his lips and shrugged. "Not a big deal to me if it's not to you."

_What the…_ "You're sure?"

"Of course not. Serena will get over it. Besides, she's married now. No offense, of course, but I trust her."

_Would you like some pliers to help yank out my heart?_ "Well, I have no intention of doing anything…"

"Of course not. I supply your paycheck now."

That ease was so disarming, but maybe that was the depth of his trust in Serena's faithfulness. It was so… unexpected. He couldn't help but grin at his new boss. He extended his hand. "Well, I certainly hope I can be all you need me to be, sir."

Allen shook his hand. "Please, call me Allen. And I know you will be. Let me take you around the office and give you some names to these faces."

Amara and Michelle immediately stood and offered their hands when the two men emerged from the room grinning. Amara seemed slightly nervous, but that had to have been because she was hiding the whereabouts of one employee. Allen seemed to know what was going on; he turned to the adjacent office and frowned at the drawn blinds. "Amara, are you trying to hide something from me again?"

The blonde smiled sheepishly. "She should be here any minute."

"Did she sleep in again?"

"She told me to tell you she got stuck in traffic."

"You do realize that's not going to work anymore? Once I figure out your code, you guys are pretty much sunk."

Michelle hid a smile behind her hand. "I told you that thing needed to be changed."

"It was _her_ idea, anyway. She insisted it didn't need to be changed because she would get better at being here on time."

"Which you were somewhat foolish to believe."

"You won't hear me deny that."

"Ladies," Allen interrupted, grinning fondly at the two of them. "It's fine. Just do what you usually do when she gets here."

Darien felt that same weird knot develop in his stomach. Allen knew about a tardy employee and was okay with it? It looked like there was a standard that needed to be changed around here. Maybe this was a perfect chance to show how serious he was about this job. He couldn't help but grin politely at the two women. The tardy employee reminded him so much of—

Amara's phone beeped. A quick glance, and the blonde grinned. "She's in the elevator and should be in anytime."

"Of course. She would know how to make an entrance." Allen strode away from the two and brought him over to the elevators. "This particular employee… well, she has a heart of gold, but she's never been able to break her habit of sleeping in early. The work she does here, though, is tremendous. Several of the sales we have here wouldn't be possible without her. She's my second-in-command."

Darien couldn't help himself. "Your second-in-command is frequently late?"

"With all the overtime she puts in, it almost doesn't matter. I'm sure if I weren't here she'd be doing better but… I can't help it. I'm very fond of her, so I tend to be a little biased."

Darien felt a small surge of pride swell in him. _Have I found a weakness already? I should have known this jerk wasn't perfect for her._ "Well, you keep giving me subtle teasers instead of giving me her name. Is she going to be a supervisor?"

"Actually, depending on your work, you might be doing sales work together. What I'm hoping is that the two of you will compliment each other well. Time will tell, of course." Allen glanced at the light when the bell dinged. "You're right, though. I should stop teasing you with her work ethic and let you meet her."

"I look forward to it."

He might not have known the man for long, but he knew he didn't like that grin Allen gave him. "You say that now. Just wait until those doors open."

Yup. He knew he didn't like that smile. "Why do you say that?"

Allen didn't even try to answer. He turned to the doors and waited for them to open. He didn't have to wait long.

_Oh. My. God. I should have known. Oh, _God_, I should have known!_ He unconsciously stood closer to the wall besides the doors.

"Oh, uh… hi, sweetheart. Do you know how bad traffic is this time of morning?"

Allen grinned at Serena. "Sawing logs doesn't count as traffic. I'd love for you to meet our new employee, though."

Serena's million-dollar smile was still the same as he remembered. "You had a new employee come in and you didn't tell me?"

"I recall Amara telling you to set your alarm early for today. Be careful how loudly you speak, though. He's standing right beside you."

Darien was pretty sure she muttered, "Of course he is." Allen could only be grinning at the glare she was giving him – surely the same one she had given _him_ a million times before. He had a split second to collect himself before she turned to him with a smile.

Of course, the moment she saw him, the smile fell.

"Serena, I'd like you to meet Darien Shields. I'm told you two have some history."

The light in her eyes completely dissolved. Her face was stony, indifferent, with just a hint of irritancy and anger. It was the same face that had haunted him since he walked out of that building eight years ago. That knot in his stomach got a little tighter.

She hadn't changed one bit. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.


End file.
